Chapter Three: The Cage Draped in Velvet
1232 Words
Elena's POV
I woke to the scent of sandalwood and cold marble—luxury, foreign and suffocating. The sheets around me were soft, too soft, like they might trap me in their silken folds forever. A single window was cracked open across the room, letting in a stream of early morning light and the distant cry of a raven. My head pounded, my body ached, and every breath reminded me I wasn’t home. Not anymore.
Not ever again.
I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest, eyes darting around the lavish room. The walls were a muted charcoal, softened by gold detailing and tall bookshelves full of volumes I doubted had ever been touched. A roaring fire burned in the hearth even though the morning air was warm, casting flickering shadows across the polished wooden floor.
I had dreamed of my family last night. Their laughter, their confusion when I disappeared, my brother screaming my name across the woods. And him.
The Alpha.
His hands. His voice. The way his eyes had seen right through me like I was something he already owned.
I clenched the blanket tighter.
I had to get out.
The door creaked open.
I froze.
He entered as if this room belonged to him too—and maybe it did. A black dress shirt clung to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, veins trailing down his arms like roots. His dark hair was still wet from a shower, and his scent struck me harder than I expected—earth, pine, danger.
“Good,” he said, voice deep and calm. “You’re awake.”
I glared. “And I suppose I should thank you for abducting me in the middle of the night?”
“You’re here because it’s the safest place for you.” He leaned against the edge of the dresser, arms crossed. “I would’ve preferred a more civil introduction, but you ran.”
“I don’t belong here.”
“You do,” he said, “whether you like it or not.”
I threw the blanket off and stood, wincing at the pain in my shoulder. “You drugged me. You took me away from everything I know. From everyone I love. That’s not protection. That’s imprisonment.”
He didn’t flinch. “I understand your anger. But I did what I had to. Your village—your pack—would never let you go willingly. You’re the Luna.”
“No,” I snapped, voice rising. “I’m not. I never accepted you. There’s no bond. I never asked for any of this!”
He moved toward me then—not quickly, but with the weight of a predator who never needed to rush. “Elena, you felt it. The moment our eyes met. The bond is there whether you want to believe in it or not.”
His nearness made my skin burn. I hated that I felt anything other than rage. I hated that a tiny part of me remembered the way his touch had steadied me when I passed out. The way he’d carried me like I was breakable.
I pushed past him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice had a dangerous softness now.
“Anywhere but here.”
I reached the door, gripped the cold handle—
It didn’t budge.
I yanked harder. Nothing.
I turned. “You locked me in?”
“I told you,” he said with infuriating calm, “it’s for your safety.”
“From what?” I demanded. “From you?”
He stared at me then, eyes darkening. “From them. From what’s coming. You think I took you because I’m cruel? You have no idea what’s out there. You don’t even know what you are.”
I flinched. “What I am?”
He came closer. I backed up until my spine hit the edge of the bedpost.
“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” he whispered. “The shift beneath your skin. The heat that comes with the moon. You’ve been fighting it, but it’s waking up, Elena. Your wolf.”
I shook my head, even though part of me knew he was right.
“I don’t have a wolf.”
“You do. You’re just not trained to hear her yet.”
My knees buckled slightly. I sat down on the edge of the bed, head in my hands.
This couldn’t be real. This had to be a dream, some fevered nightmare I’d wake from.
He crouched in front of me, voice suddenly gentler. “I’m not your enemy.”
I met his eyes. “Then stop acting like one.”
His jaw clenched. For the first time, I saw something flicker there—pain?
“I can’t let you leave,” he said. “Not yet. But I can give you freedom within these walls. A chance to understand who you are. What we are. I want to show you something.”
I hesitated. “Show me what?”
“Come with me,” he said, standing.
My instincts screamed at me to refuse. To spit in his face. But curiosity is a cruel trait. And so is the pull of something deeper—something ancient inside me that whispered: go.
I followed him down wide hallways lined with portraits of Alphas past—faces cold and proud. The mansion was enormous, every corridor steeped in history and shadows. Servants passed with their heads low, offering nods to him and furtive glances at me.
They knew who I was.
Or who I was supposed to be.
We stopped before a set of iron doors. He placed a hand against the metal, and they creaked open into a room unlike any other—a garden.
Not just any garden. A sanctuary.
The ceiling stretched high above like a glass dome, letting sunlight pour through in golden beams. Ivy clung to stone pillars, and flowers of every color bloomed in wild, beautiful chaos. There was a fountain in the center, shaped like a crescent moon, with water cascading over its edges in soft, steady music.
I stared in awe. “What is this place?”
“It belonged to my mother,” he said quietly. “She created it when she was Luna. Said it was the only place she felt like herself.”
I turned to look at him.
“She wasn’t from this world either,” he added. “She fought the bond for months. Hated me for longer. But she stayed. And eventually, she understood.”
I looked away.
“I don’t want to understand,” I said. “I want to go home.”
He stepped closer. “This is your home now.”
“I didn’t choose this.”
“Neither did I,” he said. “But here we are.”
For a long moment, we just stood there, two souls bound by a fate neither of us wanted.
Then he said, “I’ll leave you here. Take all the time you need.”
He walked away, his footsteps fading down the marble hall.
I stood alone in the garden, sunlight on my skin, rage in my heart.
A bird landed on the edge of the fountain.
Free.
And I—I was in a velvet cage.
But even cages have cracks.
And I would find mine.
- Writer
